


Catch

by QuillMind



Series: The Devilman You Love [1]
Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Claiming, Demonic Possession, Demons, Erections, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, High School, Ice Cream, Insecurity, Licking, Masturbation, Mention of violence and gore, Other, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Skipping Class, Smut, piggyback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: After merging with Amon and turning into Devilman, Akira's assaulted by all manner of new and aggressive feelings.  A lot of them revolve around you.  You've always been the star athlete who ran so fast you seemed impossible to catch, but now, you're within his grasp.





	Catch

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Devilman: Crybaby--I knew how the original manga story goes, and still I get gutted after watching the Netflix series. ;_; Anyway, I got slammed with some serious inspiration for Urban Decay spokesmodel Akira, so I churned out a ton of headcanons, some of which ended up being rather sizeable stories! The first such example is this one, which I've since expanded a bit more at the beginning and end so that there's additional context to where Akira's mind is at. Hope you enjoy!

A storm contained in a body.  That was what it felt like.  Sheer power, beautifully free in its raw pureness, yet terrifying and potentially self-destructive.  The flesh, though made far more durable and able to regenerate at an astronomical rate, seemed more like a general guideline for where to store this strength.  

_I want._

_I want to kill._

_I want to shred skin, see blood spray, hear organs splatter uselessly to the floor._

_I want, so I do.  There is no need for restraint.  No point.  A demon follows instinct.  A demon will eat, kill, and fuck as much as it desires.  A demon will take what belongs to him, and kill anything that tries to get in the way._

_I want._

_I want, I want, I want—_

_A smiling face.  “Akira-kun, hurry up and catch me if you can!”_   

****

Akira bolted upright from how suddenly he startled awake.  Eyes as wide as saucers, he stared up at the blank ceiling he’d grown up with as he let his breathing settle.  

He was back at home.  Just an ordinary boy waking up for school like anywhere else.  Except until yesterday, the body that occupied this bed was not a lean arrangement of muscle and sinew.  Nor was it able to cleave demons in two and splatter walls with blood.  

Something had changed in Akira, and he wasn’t entirely sure what.  Besides his appearance, he thought and felt like he never had before.  He could hear the neighbourhood gossip chatting with the other housewives outside as clearly as if he were standing right next to them.  He saw every individual leg of a spider that was crawling along the wall across from the bed.  He felt pretty confident that he could devour a whole cow—after running it down and tearing its throat open himself.  

And he had an erection that was practically a fifth limb.  His boxers were uncomfortably tight from how much the damn thing was straining against the cotton.  

Images flashed through his mind.  

_You, looking back over your shoulder at him as you headed to school._

_You, shyly covering your naked body with your arms._

_You, on your back and crying out his name, skin covered with his teeth marks and saliva while he fucked you with a manic hunger—_

Akira grunted fiercely as he rubbed his throbbing cock.  He imagined it was you he was thrusting into instead of his hand, gripping him so tightly with your walls and happily taking everything he gave you.  He hissed into the pillow to muffle his voice, the sheets getting sprayed with jets of his come like a Super Soaker.  

He panted deeply, his chest puffing, but the visions and his cock barely subsided.  He saw himself now taking you from behind, that ass that he’d fantasized about far too many times being squeezed in his grasp and rippling with every slap of hips against yours.  

“Hey, Akira, you’d better get going or you’re gonna be late!”  

The sound of your mother calling from downstairs snapped him back to reality.  Then he sniffed the air.  He couldn’t detect you.  You’d already gone.  

To school.  Where you were popular.  Where dozens of guys were gathered, many of them having already hit on you in the past while others were building up their courage for their chance.  

_No way.  No fucking way._

_Mine.  Mine.  MINE._

He ripped the soiled sheets off the bed, stuffed them in the closet for now, and grabbed his clothes.  

****

That’s what I get for reading manga until 4:00 am, you thought, not bothering to cover your mouth from the huge yawn you made.  You were such a zombie when your alarm rang that you hadn’t even bothered to look at yourself in the mirror when you got ready, instead just going through the motions of throwing your clothes on, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

Akira still wasn’t up by the time you left, but you weren’t worried.  Though he often slept in, he would always catch up to you eventually, albeit sweaty and breathless.  Being on the track team with you hadn’t done a whole lot to change his thin physique, but he would always laugh apologetically and say he probably just needed to work harder while you sped off past him, leaving everyone else in the dust.  

By the end of the day, you, Akira and Miko would go home together, taking the route that you could walk blindfolded from having known since childhood.  Dinner would be you, Akira, Taro and your parents, with your father saying Grace before everyone started digging in.  After that, you and Akira would work on your homework together, you being the one to occasionally offer corrections to his notes.

It had always been this way. You couldn’t imagine it being any other way. Akira Fudo had been in your life for as long as you could remember, and it was a given that he would continue to be.

_“Slowpoke! You gotta be faster than that if you wanna catch me!“ You laughed with your hands on your hips. Even as a young child, you excelled in sports and running, and were the undefeated champion of races, sports, and tag in the neighbourhood._

_A five-year-old Akira futilely fought back tears, rubbing at his eyes with balled-up fists._ _  
_

_“I will!“ he insisted, his lip quivering. “I’ll get faster and one day I’ll catch you!”_

_Again you laughed. “Okay, then keep trying!” No matter how many times he lost, Akira never gave up. You couldn’t not admire that._  
  
Concern started to seep into you as the school gates showed in your view.  Normally he would’ve reached you by now.

The students around you were being pretty noisy, you just noticed. Both the girls and the boys (but mostly the girls) were chattering amongst themselves and looking at something in delighted awe.

You heard your name being called–shouted, actually. The voice rang out strong and clear like the shot from a starter pistol.

A sound was coming closer. Something like–footsteps? But no, it couldn’t be, it was way too fast.

_What the–_

You had no chance to turn around, as a massive body suddenly slammed you from behind with the force of a freight train. It was enough to knock you off your feet, but the two muscled arms that had wrapped around you prevented that from happening, carrying you a few seconds before stopping.

The girls surrounding you squealed in dismay and elation, and the guys made impressed sounds and wolf whistles, but you weren’t listening.

The heat hit you first–a burning desert at your back. Then came the scent. A turgid rush of sweat, musk, and masculine spice that permeated your skin and reached into buried animal instincts that modern society very rarely tapped into–and yanked them all the way up to the surface.  Rough, coarse hair tickled your cheek, and at your neck was a rhythm of heavy breathing that puffed on your neck like steam.

Strangely enough, the breaths didn’t sound weary the way they should have if a person had just sprinted at top speed.  Instead, they were steady and guttural, and he was inhaling through his nose like he was–

He was _smelling_ you.

You heard–felt–a low, subtle rumble from his chest reverberating through your back. He was… Purring? Growling?

He said your name, this time as quiet as a whisper and lacking that frantic urgency from earlier. Now it was relieved, but also tinged with something dark and primal that your mind didn’t fully comprehend, but your body did, judging by the goosebumps swarming your skin and a certain ache building in your lower body.

Regaining your senses, you wriggled against your captor.

“Get–Let go, _let go of me!_ ” you yelled, trying to hold your fear at bay. Surprisingly, the man released you immediately, as though he’d just realized what he was doing. You spun around to face him, ready with a face full of fury and a slew of curse words to fling at him.

But they never came. Instead of some gross, old pervert whose face would have been plastered on warning posters labeling him as a train molester, you were looking at a guy about your age, but no one you’d ever seen before. He easily had a full head’s worth of height on you, and his arms and legs were long but clearly rich with lean muscle. A face with high, sharp features that looked cut from marble were dominated by two deep-set eyes lined by astounding thick and dark lashes, to the point that you wondered for a second if he was using extensions or eyeliner. His pitch-black hair was a stormy mess and came to a devil’s peak in the middle of his forehead.

Contrary to the raw, predatory aura that he carried, he had a look of confusion and hurt on his face, that, in spite of yourself, made you want to comfort him.

You grit your teeth. Anger welled towards this boy for surprising you, scaring you, arousing you, for getting sympathy from you.

“Who the fuck are you?” you demanded harshly.

He blinked, took a step towards you, saw you back up, and stopped.

“It’s me,” he said, repeating your name yet again. “Akira.”

Your eyes narrowed in disbelief. You wanted to throw a “bullshit” right back in his face, but the longer you looked at him, the more you started to see a certain someone that you held dear. The colour of his eyes, that devil’s peak, the sharp chin and well-defined eyebrows. And…

“Say my name again.”

He did. Once, twice, three times–and each time he sounded and looked happier to say it, as though the act itself brought him joy.

“Akira-kun…?” The moment you said it, you knew it to be true.

His mouth curled into a toothy grin that showed up sharp canines. “Yup!”

A beat, then, “What in the _fuck?_ Why are you like–how–what happened?”

Akira chuckled and scratched his head. “Nah, I dunno, I mean, I went to sleep and then woke up like this–I guess it’s the growth spurt of the century, huh?”

“A _growth spurt?_ You look like you got Captain America serum injected into you or something! Are you sure you didn’t ‘roid up or take HGH?”

He gave an apologetic smile–though his new features made it seem more roguish than contrite. “Do you really think I’d ever take drugs or needles of any kind?  Remember how it went every time we had to get flu vaccinations?“

You pursed your lips. “Yeah,” you admitted, “you cried, and I had to hold your hand every year.”

‘See?’ his expression seemed to say.

“Well, I guess we should be calling Guinness because you probably just set a new world record,” you said with a shrug.

“I don’t care about getting famous.”

You playfully punched him in the arm.  “Okay, but don’t scare me like that! I thought you were some pervert or something.”  You went back to pick up your bag which had fallen on the ground, but were grabbed by the wrist and brought back to have your face in his chest and his arms around you again.  Another chorus of shocked screams and yells rose from the students.

“What, Akira–”

“I’m sorry,” he said lowly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. The last thing I’d ever want to do is scare you.”

He squeezed tighter. It made it hard for you to breathe, but oddly enough, that didn’t bother you much.  Something about the situation made you think of the taming of a wild animal.  You moved your arms up around his back and rubbed the broad space between his shoulder blades.

“It’s… it’s okay, I forgive you. Okay? I forgive you, Akira-kun, it’s all right. Now come on, we should get to school or we’re going to be late.”

There was no reply for a few seconds, then, “Let’s skip today.”

“What?”

“Forget school. Let’s go somewhere. For one, I gotta get some new clothes.”

“Oh, um… that’s true–”

His face came closer to your ear. “Everything’s way too tight. Especially my pants.”

As if to demonstrate, he shifted, and you felt something long, thick, and hard press against your stomach.

Your face burned and your eyes widened. “Aki–!” The first half of his name was all you managed to say before he tossed you up onto his back, looping your arms over his shoulders. Scooping both his and your bags up from the ground, he hung them on his wrist and gripped your thighs to sandwich his waist, causing you to make a tiny gasp.

“Hang on tight!”

You didn’t have a choice. He took off like a cheetah, body bent so low to the ground that he was almost horizontal from the waist up. The wind beat at your face and made it hard to see, so you had to keep your head down and cling to Akira with all your strength.

You heard your name being laughed. It was coming from Akira.

“I did it,” he said. “I finally did it.”

“Did what?”

He turned his head back just slightly, just enough for you to see his devilish, triumphant grin. “I caught you.”

****

The day went by in a flash.  

In-between shopping trips for clothes and new sheets (when you asked Akira what was wrong with the ones he had, he looked away and declined to give you a straight answer), you went to a batting cage and an arcade where Akira proceeded to dominate in every game.  He set new high scores on every machine and got multiple cute animal plushies for you on the first try, merely claiming to have gotten wise to their patterns after so many failed attempts in the past.  At the batting cage, he got one home run after another—when he didn’t destroy the bats and/or the balls outright—or sent the balls flying into the city like meteors after they tore through the net.  At a popular buffet, you were left open-mouthed as Akira devoured one plate filled with food after another, effortlessly inhaling everything the restaurant had, especially meat.  

By the time the sun was starting to lower, you were both overlooking Shibuya’s scramble crossing from a building rooftop—which Akira had gotten you to by running up the stairs and forcibly breaking open the doors by brute force.  

“Do you feel okay?” you asked Akira while taking a lick of your ice cream cone.  Bookending the two of you were large, plastic bags filled with your day’s haul of goods.

Akira swallowed the remaining half of his burger and paused, seemingly caught off guard with that question.  “Uh, yeah.  I think so.  Why?”  

You rolled your eyes.  “Don’t give me ‘why’, Akira-kun.  I’m not dumb enough to think that all this was caused just by a growth spurt.”  

He didn’t answer, instead casting his eyes around the city and not focusing on anything.  

You took another lick, smacking your lips at the pieces of strawberry mixed in the ice cream.  “Something happened, right?  Something weird.”  

Akira nodded.  “Yeah.”  

“Do you hurt anywhere at all?”  

“No.  But I feel… Restless. Impatient.  Like there’s a million things I can do but I’m not doing any of them.  I don’t understand it.”  

“I figured.”  When Akira turned to look at you with an eyebrow quirked, you smiled.  “Everything you did today—the games, the running, the eating—it looked like you were figuring out your limits.  Like you were doing a test drive of your body.”  

He blinked a few times, thoughtful.  “That’s… actually pretty spot-on.  I don’t really know what’s happened to me.  Sometimes I barely feel like me at all.”  

The street noise below echoed into the evening sky; a promotional car of some sort covered in gaudy, reflective decorations blasted music as it drove by, a group of girls shrieked hellos at each other as they headed off to get drinks, and car horns honked in a raucous symphony.  

“What would you do if I was—if I stopped being human?”  

You stopped and met Akira’s gaze at his question.  “You mean like, if you turned into a cyborg or a ghost?”  

“No, like, if I turned into a monster.  A devil or something.”  

You looked at him for quite a while, hearing the seriousness in his voice.  “I’d say what makes a monster is its actions.  So, as long as you’re still the Akira-kun I grew up with deep down, I don’t care what you are or what you look like.  I’ll defend you from anyone who tries to attack you.”  You smiled, then added, “But if you turn into a cockroach, that’s a different story.  Then I’d stomp you as soon as I saw you.”  

Akira laughed heartily.  “That’s you, all right.  Tough with anything else, but a total ‘fraidy-cat when it comes to roaches.”  

Your cheeks puffed and you smacked him on the shoulder.  “I am _not_ a ‘fraidy-cat!  I’m sensible!  Roaches are freaky and gross!”  

He didn’t stop laughing, blocking your hits easily until finally he pulled you into his arms again.  You shut up immediately, still not used to this body or this level of physical contact.  

“Thanks,” Akira mumbled against the back of your neck.  

“For what?”  

“Being you.  Believing in me.”  

“Akira-kun, I’ll always believe in you.”  You patted his back.  “Now I hate to ruin this moment, but my ice cream’s melting onto my hand.”  

Akira pulled back, grabbed your wrist and ate the entire remaining half of your ice cream (plus the upper part of the cone) in one giant bite.  

“Hey!” you exclaimed, gasping when Akira then proceeded to lick the melted ice cream off of your hand.  Leaving no inch of skin unexamined, he swirled his tongue anywhere that might’ve needed cleaning, even sticking some of your fingers into his mouth to suck.  

“A—Aki…”  You heard the weird tone in your voice, so you couldn’t trust yourself to speak.  What Akira was doing shouldn’t have been much different from if a dog was doing it, but there was an unmistakable eroticism to the way he moved his mouth over your hand.  And you heard, no, _felt_ it again—that purring sound.  

He kept his face lowered while he worked, but opened his eyes to look up at you, and why, oh why did you then get the image of him doing that but with himself situated between your legs with a different fluid coating his lips—

A final slurp and Akira released your hand.  “There,” he said simply.  “Clean.”  

You blinked and stared at him in bewilderment.   _Clean_ was the last thing that had been on your mind just now!  You cleared your throat and hoped you were not blushing.  

“A napkin would’ve made more sense, Akira-kun!”  

“Do you have any?”  

“Well…”

“So I made the right choice.”  

You bit your lip and wiped your hand on the skirt of your uniform.  “Do you do this to all the girls you bring here on dates?”

Akira cocked his head at you.  “You know I’ve never been on a date before in my life—unless we count this as my first one.”  

Was he just intent on making your face light on fire today?  

****

You thought that Akira might not want dinner by the time you both got home, but he proved you wrong by demolishing yet another enormous serving of food in a matter of minutes.  Your parents and your younger brother Taro were just as amazed by the changes in Akira, but they were just as accepting of them as you were, and laughed it off as a result of the growth spurt that he purported it to be.  

Your room was on the second floor while Akira’s was at the top.  As he was about to head up the stairs, you stopped him.  

“Thanks for the plushies,” you said, gesturing to your bag.  “And the games and food and...everything else today.”  

“You mean the cleaning service?”

You laughed nervously.  “How about the chauffeur service?  You got us around the city faster than any cab or train could.”  

Akira shrugged.  “I’ll give you a ride anytime,” he said with a suggestive smirk.  “Just let me know when you want it.”  

There was a brief darkening of your cheeks which you quickly hid by turning to open the door.  “Good night, Akira-kun.”  

“Good night.”  He watched the door close and stood there for a few seconds before going to his own room.  

He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he tossed his bags off to the side.  His extraordinary power and enhanced senses and personality had not scared you away.  Rather, you were quick to offer him comfort and support when he was in doubt of himself.  

You still cared about him, even in this new and strange form.  He had felt your musk soften and warm up around him, and your pupils dilated frequently when he said flirtatious things to you.  There was genuine affection there that went beyond that of childhood friends; it was the kind that could be the foundation for a lifelong bond that complemented the soul.  

But he had another reason for being so pleased.  When he’d grabbed you at school today and held you in his arms, he’d smelled your body responding favourably to him, tasted the sweat gathering in your private places and heard your breath and heartbeat speed up.  The hardening of your nipples would not have been detectable to any human through your bra and clothing, but he had noticed the two little buds poking in his direction as clearly as if you’d told him yourself.  During his tongue-washing of your hand, he’d caught all the little details you were trying to hide, such as your thighs trembling and tiny whimpers that were quieter than the squeak of a mouse.  

You were turned on by him.  You wanted him—even if you were not fully aware of it yet.

He was hard again.  

 _Harder_ , more like.  He’d barely gone soft at all since he first touched you this morning.

Rather than mess up the brand new sheets he’d just bought, he decided to pull out the already soiled ones from the closet.  He lay back on his bed and shed his boxers, putting the bundle of sheets off to his side.  Licking his palm for a bit of initial moisture, he closed a fist around his cock and started masturbating.  

The benefit of growing up in the same home, attending the same schools and being in track and field together meant that Akira knew virtually everything about your habits and social life.  You had been on a handful of dates before, but none had ever turned into anything meaningful, so he knew you were still a virgin.  

He would be the first one to see you naked, to get you to spread your legs and let him see your pussy, to make you come with his fingers and mouth.  Only he would get the privilege of drilling himself into you, grasping your hips and sucking on those pretty breasts that swayed back and forth with each thrust.  His name would be the one that you’d cry over and over between moans and gasps, and it was his come that would be all over your face, chest, and in your core.  

His, and no one else’s.  

Today, he’d caught you physically.  Now it was just a matter of catching your heart and desire as well.  

With that thought in mind, he stifled a ragged groan as he came into the bundle of sheets again.  

**Author's Note:**

> Find my Devilman: Crybaby headcanons on my [Tumblr!](https://quillmind.tumblr.com/)


End file.
